Hidden down a scenic road about 20 miles northeast of Washington-on-the-Brazos, the Fanthorp Inn captured my imagination the first time I set eyes upon it
How can a building exist in four different countries without ever being moved? Simple: the structure was part of Mexico, the Republic of Texas, the USA, the Confederate States of America, and back to the USA again. Hidden down a scenic road in Grimes County, about 20 miles northeast of Washington-on-the-Brazos, the Fanthorp Inn captured my imagination the first time I set eyes upon it. So I found the occasion to step back in time for a TroysArt Travelogue.
Joining me for the excursion into Texas history is my gal pal Stacey Abbott, the pert blonde owner of Spa 1107 in Houston and Zane Anderson who owns a number of historic properties in Navasota and College Station.
The site was established by English immigrant Henry Fanthorp and his wife Rachel. The cedar log double-dogtrot residence first opened its doors in 1834 in the town of Alta Mira, and mainly served travelers on the La Bahia Trail. The name of Alta Mira was later changed to Anderson, at the time the 5th most populous city in Texas, in honor of Kenneth L. Anderson who died at the inn in 1846–no known relation to our buddy Zane. Fanthorp Inn became famous as a stopping point for stagecoaches, travelers, and the community, serving as a post office as well. (The mail would arrive on the coaches.)
Our guide was Chandler, a hearty young man with a masters of history degree, outfitted in period costume including top hat and waistcoat.
A bone-up of Texas history tells us that the La Bahia Trail (aka Opelousas Trail or Lower Road) was originally an Indian trail in southwest Louisiana to the southeastern area of Texas, eventually extended to Washington-on-the-Brazos and Goliad. The western route was known as early as 1690 and was traveled by Alonso de Leon.
And a quick refresher course on architecture, a dogtrot house consists of two log cabins connected by a breezeway or “dogtrot”, under a common roof. Typically, one section was used for cooking and the second was a living space and bedroom. The big advantage in the central breezeway was to protect occupants from southern heat. And I can attest to the fact that the breezeway seemed effective at capturing the air.
A granite historical marker in honor of the Texas Centennial reads: “Built in 1834 by Henry Fanthorp as a home for his bride, Rachel Kennard. Enlarged for hotel purpose. Served as first mercantile establishment and first post office (1835) in the region. Here Kenneth Lewis Anderson, vice-president of the Republic of Texas, died July 3, 1845. Stage lines from Houston to Old Springfield and Nacogdoches to Austin crossed here.”
Mr. Anderson, considered to be the frontrunner to become the first governor of the state of Texas, found it imperative to travel despite an illness, developed a fever and died at the inn at the age of 39.
His colleague sat on the front porch as a 1850s seamstress with a display of finely stitched handkerchiefs and antique sewing implements
It is pleasing to find a historical marker in Texas in context to an interesting surrounding. In a state of 16,000 historical markers, too often I see “Historical Marker One Mile on Right” only to pull off the highway for metal signage near a ditch with a hard-to-read story about an immigrant and a long-destroyed church, or worse, a cattle trail or watershed.
Since 1977, the property has been maintained as a state historical park with many of the original furnishings on display and docents demonstrating life in early Texas. Via research and paint analysis, the Inn is restored to how it existed in 1850.
For $1, travelers would share a bed with another passenger and be grateful for it. In the dining room the dollar included a hot meal made from a variety of fresh vegetables and meats, bread, coffee, and luxury of luxuries, sugar. Board games, cards, and premium tobacco were available in the parlor.
Board games, cards, and premium tobacco were available in the parlor.
The parlor and the fireplace brought to mind Quentin Tarantino’s western masterpiece Hateful Eight, with Confederate General Sanford “Sandy” Smithers smoking a cigar in a chair by the fireplace, as larger than life CSA generals spent time at Fanthorp, including Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee.
It was a quiet summer day and we got a personal tour. Our guide was Chandler, a hearty young man with a masters of history degree, outfitted in period costume including top hat and waistcoat. His colleague sat on the front porch as a 1850s seamstress with a display of finely stitched handkerchiefs and antique sewing implements
Two Presidents of the United States including Zachary Taylor and Ulysses S. Grant, President of the Confederacy Jefferson Davis, and President of the Republic of Texas Sam Houston visited the inn at points in their lives. Records indicate that Sam Houston stayed over a dozen times.
As for the inordinate number of spittoons, they really were everywhere. People in the olden days really had a spitting problem. Some of the spittoons looked like litter boxes. And there was at least one spittoon in every room, including the dining room.
“The women of the Republic of Texas were rough,” Chandler told us. “And they chewed and spit tobacco.”
Chandler acted as the punkah wallah, pulling the cord from the corner of the room, explaining that a slave child would have been assigned the responsibility.
A highlight to me was the functioning triple punkah above the dining table. A punkah is a large fan affixed to the ceiling which was also called a shoofly, as it created a breeze and also deterred pests. Chandler acted as the punkah wallah, pulling the cord from the corner of the room, explaining that a slave child would have been assigned the responsibility.
As for the topic of enslaved peoples in the antebellum days, Chandler said that, according to the 1860 census, the Fanthorps owned 32. “And of the 32,” he explained, “half were juveniles between the ages of two-months old and fourteen years old.”
“Oh my god,” Stacey gasped incredulously. “You’re kidding!”
And after an awkward pause, she continued, “What in the world could a two-month old slave baby do for anybody?”
I thought I was going to fall over. And the look on Zane’s face was priceless.
“Well,” Chandler explained, “the baby didn’t have a job. One of the women had a baby.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said.
“No, they didn’t go out and buy a baby!” He concluded the story by adding that by the end of the Civil War, Henry Fanthorp freed all 32 individuals and was granted a pardon by the president of the United States, Andrew Johnson.
I wonder if the two-month old slave baby chewed tobacco too?
Stacey climbed in and waved like she was off on a wild west adventure.
Up until the 1830s, a stagecoach would travel about five miles an hour, covering about 60 miles per day. But with the development of steel springs in 1836, a technologically advanced coach could travel 10 miles per hour including stops to change horses. So, no doubt, the inn would seem a fabulous refuge after a grueling daylong journey over bumpy dirt roads in a crowded, stinking coach.
There is a stagecoach in the barn on display–and once a month the Fanthorp Inn offers coach rides to visitors. We had just missed it by a day–there was plenty of horse poop in the driveway to attest to that. But Stacey climbed in and waved like she was off on a wild west adventure. But no, this Texas lady was not willing to spit tobacco.
The family cemetery is the final resting place for 150 years of Fanthorp descendants as well as poor old Vice President Anderson.
Fanthorp Inn functioned as a country hotel and tavern until 1867, when Henry and Rachel died of yellow fever, at which time it was converted into a residence for their daughter and her family. The family cemetery is the final resting place for 150 years of Fanthorp descendants as well as poor old Vice President Anderson.
Susan Love Fitts, a former contributor for the Houston Chronicle, once referred to the inn as “the Hyatt Regency of its day, probably worthy of a five-star rating if such designations had been issued in the mid -19th century.”
The state historic site is beautifully maintained and it really is like a time machine, from Chandler’s garb to the lack of electricity.
“That was so interesting, Troy. And so much fun,” Stacey exclaimed on the drive back to Houston. “Pick another one!”